Dance On Our Graves
by ahiddenbanshee
Summary: A small series of missing excerpts from my story, Mad World, that I have dubbed the 'deleted scenes'. Know of events from Before, cut conversations, delve into dreaming hours, see what you've missed. Rating is subject to change.
1. 1

Author's Note: Hello loyal readers! And those few new readers that might've stumbled upon this author's poor attempt at fanfiction.

This is a small series of _missing_ _excerpts_ from my story, **Mad World**, that I have dubbed the 'deleted scenes'. This is just something to entertain (and sort of amp up the energy I suppose. get those creative juices flowing, and the keep the readers interested) until season 3 begins. These chapters won't be very long, fair warning now, but they should be interesting- I hope. I'll just leave that up to you readers.

Anyway! The premiere is only 13 days away! AH! Hopefully I'll have all the 'deleted scenes' up before then, I have this one, and two in editing, and another still in the writing process. I'm thinking there might one more, or two... So... I haven't actually decided if some should be separated to create more to read, or just throw it all crammed together out there... Hmm. Well. Anyway. Here's the first one! I'd love to hear some feedback.

* * *

A Memorable Birthday Gift: A Night at The Pleasure Theatre

* * *

She was seated at her vanity - her **vanity**, her own freakin' glitzy, Hollywood-esque, lighted all around the freakin' mirror vanity! [She wasn't lying when she said the place was high end, but still, it had surprised her just how glamourous it all was] But what with her being a sort of headlining act it wasn't unusual to get special treatment such as that - not all of the girls got their own vanities, let alone their own mirror. She was just doing final touch ups on her makeup when she sighed. She looked nothing like herself, which wasn't a bad thing, in fact, she thought she looked pretty attractive, in a theatrical sort of way. Not that it mattered though, her audience wouldn't be paying much attention to her face once the spotlight and stage lights hit her.

The music was already selected, something she'd stick into her cd player and listen to while she drove to her destination to get herself 'in the zone'. It wasn't exactly something in her tastes, it was... old timey, jazzy - not that she hated jazz, her dad had loved it, but with that thought now settled uncomfortably in mind it just made the situatoin a whole lot more awkward for her - but it was for her work, therefore, she would deal with it. Her job, her job that was paying her handsomely to, for a 9 minute set, go up on stage scantily clad, work the crowd, give a little shake and shimmy, remove what she had on as tantalizingly as possible while still leaving the rest to their imagination, climb up in a ridiculously oversized martini glass and splash around, all to that crazy music. It was worth it, to help pay off her college fines and finally allow her to just worry about bills and work like any other average 26 year old. And she should be glad, considering it now as she stood to admire her 'outfit'- if it could be called that, it was run-of-the-mill black lingere; panties, bra, with hosiery, and a sheer, barely there thing of a camisole, and of course, (keeping up with some kind of elegant yet whorish theme) elbow length gloves and some terrifyingly tall stilettos. 26 years old and she was still considered 'pretty enough' by howling, horny, rich mens standards. But then again probably anyone in that sort of garb would look pretty, if not totally sexy. "All in a days work," Lacey mumbled to her reflection, fidgeting with the hem of the cami, "Well... nights work... technically."

"Carmela."

The call of her stage name had pulled her out of her thoughts, she snapped her hands to her sides and saw the theatre director, "Five minutes," was all he said and hurried off to wherever else he needed to be. She was pretty sure it was a requirement for him to run around constantly, even if things were going according to plan and no one needed him, the dude just wouldn't - couldn't - relax.

"Five minutes," she repeated to herself quietly with an affirming nod.

This would be her fifth to last show, if she did the numbers correctly - which she did - and then she could give her notice, end employment at The Pleasure Theatre and start working at the hospital (Grady Memorial) without any worries about school debt anymore. She didn't hate this job, though she made it very clear to herself that this was temporary, no matter how much the hooting and hollering of men directed at her and only her felt slightly empowering- knowing they wanted her but would never have her. She wanted to be a nurse. A proper LPN, something she was very sure of wanting to be since she was 10 years old.

"Two," a stage hand gestured with two fingers and nodded for her to follow the path to the stage. Lacey nodded and followed, grabbing the top hat, the prop, that 'pulled the outfit together' (where as the martini glass 'pulled her act together') from the vanity and walked with well practiced steps alongside the stage hand.

The countdown began, she shook out her arms and legs [as best as she could in those deadly heels, jesus], cracked her neck on each side and put the top hat onto her head. There was the sound of the emcee's voice booming through all the speakers in theatre, saying something to the nature of giving fair, precious Carmela a warm welcome - then something about that not sounding very warm - she was glad she wasn't a master of ceremonies, words eluded her at the best and worst of times. The stage hand's hand was counting down from five, after one she gave a swooping gesture toward the stage just as 'Carmela's music' began to play. Lacey took a deep breath and exhaled as she took the steps on to the stage, a dull roar turning up louder than she could even believe the instant her leg came into view.

The lights were so bright, she forced herself not to squint and just smiled, seduction and mystery in her grin as she strutted to center stage, the glass sat behind the second curtain - yet to be revealed. The crowd was vicious; shouting, screaming, whistling, stomping and clapping. She couldn't see any of them, but the sound of them, all of that collective noise just for her? Her smile came easier as the familiar tune hit her ears and started work its way to flow through her. She would call it an out of body experience, but she didn't see herself performing from stage as some misty spirit onlooker... what she felt was more akin to blacking out. Once the top hat was tossed across the stage and the first glove was starting to peel away she'd disappear, and come back again to find herself drenched in water, seated in that stupid, gigantic glass with the curtain concealing her from the still whooping and hollering audience behind it. She wasn't sure if it was good or bad thing to be seemingly _checking_ _out_ while she was working her act, but everytime she'd get engulfed by the other girls and theatre workers saying how great she was, only comments of praise, and sometimes she'd notice a few extra dollars [at least 50 to 75] in her check. A bonus? A tip? Whatever slutty-stage-Lacey was doing it must be good.

After her final show and recieving her final check she didn't worry about what her alter persona had gotten up to in front of countless audiences. It wasn't something she needed to think about anymore. She'd managed to keep it a secret from her brothers, so, what was the point of dwelling on it? It was over. A classified part of her she'd never have to mention or bring out again... unless her future husband wanted some kind of _show_ in the bedroom in the form of foreplay. But even then it would be highly unlikely she'd suddenly flip the switch and start a standing ovation earning act. No one would ever see that again - maybe in the memories of the men who had been witness to it while she was 'Carmela', but even then, they would never recognize her... She was a faceless dancer at some ritzy club theatre. It wasn't as if her future husband might have been amidst the hoards of men in those audiences, what were the chances of that?


	2. 2

In Which Lacey Black Meets Mr. Perfect: Keenan Grady (former fiancé)

* * *

It was an average day at the hospital... at least what Lacey had come to understand was an average day, and it was actually night - given it was past the midnight hour - but all the same, it was average. Paper work, filing, checking up on patients and their needs, paper work, filing, and so on. It was like clockwork - though there was the occasional event where emergency procedures were performed, but that was usually done by the more senior members of staff. Lacey, with the other fairly new nurses, would stand back - out of the way - and bear witness while hoping one day they might be just as heroic. At least, that's how Lacey saw the doctors and nurses - heroes - people that saved lives daily... it must have felt wonderful. But on the contrary, when they fail to save a life after trying with all their might... that must feel terrible. That's probably why they didn't let the newbies tend to the flatliners, to have that much weight set on their shoulders so quickly - and should they lose a patient - they'd lose their entire staff in their first weeks.

So Lacey was working a double shift, as requested, it was the night shift now. Generally pretty quiet, pretty slow. Patients were asleep in their beds and some staff slept - tried to at least - in the cramped dormitories down the hall from Intensive Care, waiting for the call to snap up and get back to work at the drop of a hat... or drop of a long tone as well as a series of beeping alarms to alert them... whatever. Lacey was tired, and she was bored, and when she was bored she became even more tired, so she was very close to dozing right at the desk she was stationed at surrounded by patient files... But then the elevator doors dinged open, and a frantic man rushed through the too slowly parting doors. His eyes searched wildly until they finally landed on her and he moved on quick feet again. She was awake immediately, it wasn't everyday the night shift in the ICU recieved misty eyed, gorgeous men, dressed in fine suits stumbling through their doors.

She sprung up out of her seat and made her way around the reception desk just as the man came to a halt in front of her, "Sir, are you alright? Are you hurt?" [Why would someone injured travel all the way up to the ICU instead of the ER? She wasn't sure, it was just her first response.] She hesitantly reached her hands out to him, he was postively vibrating with trepidation. One hand came in contact with his arm and his gaze shot to hers, he seemed to calm down, slightly. "My..." his voice faltered, "M-my father. I-Is he here? I got a call just yesterday. Is h-he alright, is he okay?"

"Tell me your father's name and I can tell you if he's in our care. Take a breath or two. It's going to be just fine," she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before moving back around the desk and logging into the computer.

"Grady. Aengus Grady," the man was trembling again, his elbows rested on the high counter top of the desk and he curled his head into his arms, he hadn't taken her advice about taking a few breaths, she could understand it though, fear for his father's well being, she just wished the damn system would work quicker and- "Ah. Yes. Grady. Of course, he's one of my patients. Duh," she smiled slightly, "I'll show you to him," she gestured for him to follow her. The shakes were gone, but he was still pretty rattled, she could tell from glancing at him from the corner of her eye. His suit was wrinkled, tie loosened and the top two buttons of his collar unbuttoned, hair askew - which would look comical if not for the current situation. "He's fine, by the way," she offered in way of calming him further, but nearly took a startled step sideways and tripped over her feet when his eyes leveled with hers. They were a startling blue, mostly likely the result of sleep deprivation, irritation and possible tears he shed causing the redness that was really making them pop, but all the same they were dazzling. She cleared her throat and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked to the tiled floor, "Yeah, he came in with some severe chest pain and shortness of breath, he thought he was having a heart attack. He wasn't though."

"He's going to be alright though? It's nothing serious."

She noted the distinct accent in his words, how she hadn't noticed it before? She chalked it up to 'Nurse Mode Lacey'. Definitely Irish. Tall, fair skinned, dark haired and blue eyed Irish? '_Swoon. The lord is testing me._' Lacey's thoughts chuckled.

"I wouldn't say his blood pressure is nothing serious. As long as we get that under control we shouldn't have to worry about anymore of these painful, short of breath scares," Lacey came to a slow and stopped in front of a room with the shutters drawn, but the chart labelled 'GRADY' was in the slot just next to the door so she knew it was the right one -she'd visited him just 2 hours ago, "Just in here. We gave him a little something for the pain and something to help him sleep, so I wouldn't try starting any deep, meaningful or serious conversations with him... Unless you want to get something off your chest he most definitely will not recall the next day - be my guest. Confession is open," Lacey mentally smacked herself on the back of the head, she was rambling. Rambling at this guy who probably thought she was a total spaz now - totally unprofessional, god, she was sure to get fired, and it was almost the end of the second week on her own. The man had taken a chair and pulled it up alongside his father's hospital bed, taking his hand into his, all his focus on the greying man in the hospital gown, tucked beneath scratchy hospital linens. Maybe she was lucky enough that he didn't hear her at all, and she could just silently slink away back to her _comfortable_ desk, scold herself and maybe _accidentally_ catch a few z's and pretend this whole embarrassing-herself-in-front-of-a-pretty-Irish-du de never happened.

But then laughter. She heard heard him chuckle, "Thanks... Uh, sorry, I didn't get your name. I'd like to properly thank the girl taking care of my father- if you wouldn't mind," he smiled, a genuine smile reaching his still somewhat exhaused, puffy, [amazing] eyes.

"Lacey. I-I'm Lacey. Not a problem at all, Mr. Grady," she answered, cursing her fumbling tongue, "I'll just, um, I'll be at the reception desk in case you need anything," she grabbed the door handle ready to finally end this perturbing... thing.

"You can call me Keenan."

She let out an airy chuckle of understanding and disbelief. Were her awkward, sleep deprived ways actually charming? Maybe this was all a dream. She shut the door gently and headed back to the reception desk. Had to be a dream, right?

"OW!" the shout from sudden shock and pain had followed a heavy thump of a head lolling off a hand from where it was perched to bang onto the formica table top.

"Ahh," Lacey groaned and rubbed a hand over her forehead where it throbbed slightly, surely there would be a bump. There was still another hour of her shift before she could go home, if she could manage to drive without careening herself off the highway, or into a ditch, or another car. But as she yawned she wondered... Typing the letters into the computer systems carefully...

The file flashed in front of her eyes: Grady, Aengus.

"Oh god, I'm such an idiot!" she whined into her hands. It was real. It was all real. She was a complete and utter tit.

"I wouldn't say so..."

She jumped, squeaking slightly. And there he was, not-dream, pretty, Irish, she-can-call Keenan, guy, smirking at her.

"Generally people in the medical profession are relatively intelligent... aren't they?" he grinned.

She fixed a hopefully pleasant looking grin of her own on her face, "Can I help you with something?"

A coffee date was scheduled. Then during that date another was scheduled, because he thought 'getting hospital cafeteria coffee didn't really count', but it was really just a way to see her laugh and blush and agree to seeing him again. They saw a lot of each other while Mr. Grady was kept under observation - just in case - Lacey had become less awkward... or more awkward, depending on who you asked when around Mr. Perfect: Keenan Grady. But when Mr. Grady was released from hospital care, doctor's orders suggested he take care of himself better, which essentially became a task for his son. Mr. Grady had showered Lacey overwhelmingly with compliments - his time in the hospital was made all the better do to her, he had said. That was basically a green light for Grady Junior. A dinner date. The connection between Mr. Aengus Grady and Grady Memorial Hospital was finally made, resulting in Lacey turning beet red for not realizing sooner. Dates turned into dating. But the Grady's mostly worked out of New York, visits were few and far between, but great all the same.

But _was_ _it_ really great all the same? She'd been contemplating the relationship in her mind... it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to see him everyday... or at least once a week. Not months at a time. It wasn't working for her. Though she wish it could- it just... it just wasn't. She felt like with the distance between them they hardly knew each other enough to honestly call this a relationship at all. The only thing connecting them was basically the fact that Lacey worked at one of the hospitals Aengus Grady funded... It wasn't working. She had to end it...

But an impromptu visit. Grinning like a mad man, falling to one knee, revealing one of the biggest, shiniest, most expensive diamond rings Lacey had ever laid eyes on, right in front of her, offered to her with the question, 'Will you marry me?'

.

.

.

How could she not?

"Yes... YES!"

It could work out. Maybe it could be like the story of her parents... sort of...

A rich, attractive Irishman wanted to marry _her_? Of course she'd accept. Who wouldn't?... It could work... right?


	3. 3

Lacey's Dreams: My, What an Overactive Imagination You Have

* * *

_It was early. The sun was just rising, the streams of light shined in through the windows against her face. She winced, she always hated being woken up by nature light, especially when it settled right over her eyes and when she ventured to open them she was blinded- _lovely_ way to wake up. So instead, to prevent another blinding incident, she turned over to hide her face away from the sun. Her hand came in contact with something soft and warm- Daryl- her mind answered simply, and she committed herself to a few more minutes of mild peace before waking up fully... But then she jumped. Sitting up quickly, her thoughts screamed- Why was the sun on her face? The tent was zipped up! It should be at least! Oh god! What the hell! And how could Daryl not be aware of this! What if that isn't Daryl but just his corpse! HOW THE HELL!- _

_Her breath was frantic, she looked around _just_ as frantically, and found herself startled yet again, her legs moving and jerking in panic mode to remove the sheets from her as quick as possible were only tangling her up, she would've plummeted right off the bed if it weren't for her bedmate snatching her arm and slinking his other hand around her waist to pull her back into the center of the bed that she was _now_ realizing wasn't a pile of sleeping bags, blankets and pillows... This didn't seem-_

_"Hey. Relax. It's just me," that voice, though it was muffled from where its source lay snuggled deeply into a pillow she couldn't mistake that accent. Her eyes _finally_ adjusted and she saw him. __**Him**__._

_"Keenan?"_

_The dark haired Irishman raised his face out from the depths of the down feather pillow, eyes still sleepy as he raised a brow , "Who else did you expect?" _

_When a grin broke across his face she let out a small sort of chuckle, but she couldn't help but feel like something was off. Was this a dream? Or was this real? Had the end of world never come? Why did this seem so routine to him- her spazzing out in the morning? Was she- We're _they_ not in Georgia? Was she not part of a tight knit group of survivors? How the fuck-_

_All thoughts stuttered to a halt when he leaned over and kissed her, something lazy, yet far too arousing for that hour of the morning. But still she couldn't find it in herself to truly respond, her lips moved along, yes, but she was quite obviously not as into it as he was. But he didn't seem bothered by her strange attitude, he pulled away, looked at her with that grin back in place on his mouth and kissed her shortly once more before getting out of bed. He pulled on some boxers as he moved toward the windows, pressing a button that drew the shades completely away. Morning light illuminated the room fully._

_Lacey thoughts were back online when she looked through the window and saw what was revealed aside from the quickly rising sun. The city. New York City, to be exact. And it wasn't in ruins, it wasn't eerily quiet, though from how high up they were the sound was dulled, but still, there were cars, and- and people, not __**living**__**DEAD**__ people, and just... life. Life was happening._

_The pieces started to fit together. No apocalypse, people, cars, penthouse, Keenan, New York- Keenan..._

_Keenan! She was with Keenan, in his bed- or was it _their_ bed?- in his [_their?_] penthouse, in New York... _

_Unbelievable... It couldn't be true... could it? Her mind was _just_ that imaginative? She looked at him- really LOOKED at him. He was fine. Not a care in the world as he stood staring out the window and onto the city, one hand on his hip the other leaned against the glass just taking it all in. He inhaled through his nose before stepping away from the window with a clap of his hands, "Well, I'd better be off."_

_Lacey's brow scrunched, as he headed to what she assumed was the bathroom. How could she not remember the layout to her own apartment? Something must've happened, like, an accident at work. Work? Work! Did she still work? Was this some kind of amnesia? _God_, this was annoying!_

_"Off? Where're you going?" She went to exit the bed, but she was still tangled up in the sheets, and in the process of escaping the cluthes of the silky fabric she found herself completely naked. She huffed a sigh and looked around for her clothes- anywhere? No. What... She opted to just stay where she was, pulling the sheets closer around her._

_Keenan's head popped around the doorway of the maybe-bathroom, "Buisness trip to Japan? I told you last week, sweetheart," then he went back into the bathroom, out of sight. She huffed again, rolling her eyes- of course._

_"And that was the very reason for our... _indulgences_... last night," he called, voice echoing off tiles, she could hear the smugness in his tone. "By the way, thanks _so_ much for that 'I'm-gonna-miss-you-so-much-goodbye' present. I certainly hope there's a 'I-missed-you-so-much-and-I'm-so-glad-you're-home' version of that." _

_That most definitely explains the lack of clothing._

_A second later Keenan emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a three piece suit, socks and shoes, and carrying a brief case. Lacey did a double take... Wait...huh?_

_"Don't stay in bed all day, sweetheart. You know the doctor said that isn't good for you." _

_Wait, WHAT!? 'Since when do I stay in bed all day- aside from maybe my days off?' Lacey's thoughts shouted in confusion, since when did she lay in bed all day consistently enough to gain the concern of her significant other _and_ earn medical suggestions from a doctor? Just what the fuck was going on here!?_

_He walked over to her side of the bed and kissed her sweetly, "I'll call you from the plane, love you."_

_"Wait," she stood up, taking the sheet with her, "Wait, Keenan!"_

_Her foot snagged in the fabric and sent her hurtling toward the floor._

Lacey flinched hard enough that she found herself sitting up, breathing heavily, heart pounding as she searched her surroundings in the darkness. Her hands patted beneath her, that was positively **not** a mattress, that was the feeling of blankets, sleeping bags, on the tent floor over top uneven dirt ground. Sleeping bag, tent... There was the cot. The cot with two little girls sleeping soundly just inches away from her. She sighed, unsure if this reality was more of a relief than what her dream-reality was. Next to her a gruff groan emitted from beside her, "What's wrong?" and Daryl sat up a second later, blinking sleepily through the darkness to find Lacey's eyes. Though the exhaustion didn't want him to wake up at all and see what the matter was he did so anyway, becoming alert enough to ask and wait for an answer.

Lacey felt herself smiling a watery smile, "Nothing," she breathed, "Nothing, just... just thought I heard something."

Daryl flopped back down with another groan, this one of weariness and irritation. Lacey withheld a chuckle as she adjusted herself to lay back down next to him, her hand searching for his as he mumbled, "Y'know 'f thr's anythin' o't thr Blondie'll warn 's," sleep shortened words caused her to grin as she turned her eyes onto the cot. Her fingers finally found his and laced them together.

A few short moments later Daryl was asleep again, the girls hadn't even stirred the slightest bit, and the sound of even steady breaths was starting to lull Lacey back to sleep.

That was the second dream about Keenan she had, and that was the second time she lied to Daryl about it. She knew dreams usually meant something, like something of the subconscious trying to convey a message, but what the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

The first dream was different, Keenan had just been another victim, another body she recognized and cried over before the walkers got her too. But this one... this one had felt _so_ **real**. She was with Keenan, just him, living in New York, seemingly not torn apart and overrun by walkers, apparently the apocalypse hadn't even hit at all. Everything was... normal... He was going on a business trip, that seemed about right, but then he told her not to stay in bed all day because 'the doctor said it wasn't good for her'...

'What the hell kind of message is my subconscious trying to tell me!?'

The thought didn't dwell long, Lacey fell back into slumber, comforted by her girls and Daryl so near to her... it seemed strange though... To be comforted by the surroundings she was in rather than the one she was in in her dreams... Luxury and normalcy, yet she preferred a tent, a redneck and two orphans, in the Middle-of-Nowhere, Georgia, all while under constant fear of dead cannibals?

What...


	4. 4

Lacey's Dreams: They Always End Just Before It's About to Get Good, Don't They?

* * *

_It was the sound of hips slamming together. Boots kicking off. The sound of zippers, buttons and fastenings coming undone as lips touched and fell away only to come back again with more vigor, more fire. Tongues licked to taste and teeth caught flesh to bring about gasps. Quiet whines, muffled groans, mingling bated breath._

_His mouth was buried in the crook of her neck and shoulder, her panties fell around her ankles- she hadn't even stepped out of them when he grabbed her hips and made to-_

_"Wait, wait!" she breathed quietly, pressing her hands against his chest she put a little distance between them, enough to speak and look at each other, but their hips still remained glued together._

_He screwed his face up in confusion and worry, "What, what's wrong?"_

_She sighed, "I can't. I can't do it standing up again. I just can't. Could we migrate to something, uh, more... horizontal...?"_

_He huffed a laugh before replacing his mouth at her neck murmuring against it, "You got it." His hands grabbed under her thighs and a moment later she squeaked as she felt herself falling, she held onto him tightly, but reactional instincts made her brace herself, and him, for the fall, holding his head to her chest protectively. She had another hand out ready to steady and maybe catch the crash. But there was no painful impact. They were simply sat on the hard floor. She could feel his chuckle against her breast, "Scared ya, didn't I..." he gloated, easing her legs to circle around his hips._

_She released him from her grip and he looked at her with a teasing grin, she rolled her eyes, "Forgive me if I'm not partial to the feeling of free falling."_

_"'Ey, as long as my face gets smothered by your tits..."_

_She glared as he chuckled again, "You. Are such. A-"_

_Cue the moment where words become incomprehensible; panting, whimpers and broken words fill the heated air instead. She's clinging onto him, but trying to match his movements as well- to create a perfect rhythm to satisfy both of them- but the spring in her stomach is coiling tighter and tighter. Her toes are curling while he's breathing harshly in her ear, kissing her neck between murmurings of sweet nothings and positively filthy things, and it pulls the coils tighter, fueling the impending release. She's incapable of intelligent speech, otherwise she'd respond to him, give him back what he was giving to her, but she couldn't. Choked little moans were escaping her open mouth, tilting her head back, she felt it approaching. His lips and teeth on her throat. So close. God, so close._

_"D-" she inhaled a heavy gasp, "Daryl-!"_

"Oh, my god," Lacey whispered into the darkness of the tent. She glanced around, it was just her and the girls. Daryl had high tailed it to the farthest edge of Greene land. She let out a quiet, long sigh, running a hand over her face, "Damn it."

She wasn't sure if she'd be able to get back to sleep after such a dream, but she turned to find a new comfortable position anyway, "Well... That was anticlimactic."

Literally...


	5. 5

Lacey's Dreams: Not Like This. Eaten Alive.

* * *

_Screaming. All it is... is screaming. The cries of her babies. Honey crying for her, "MA! MA! Mama! Maaa!"_

_But the sounds come from all around, she can't zero in on its origin point. And she can't move. It's like her feet have been fitted for some cement shoes... maybe her entire body is encased in cement. But she still has the capability to turn her head in all directions- directions she can't move to._

_She hears Erin's cries of, "Lacey! Lacey, please help me! Please! Mommy!"_

_Honey's cries come again and all Lacey can do is shout back, "I'm coming! I'm coming, baby! I'm coming for you! It's okay!"_

_Tears are falling from her eyes, burning down her cheeks and blurring her vision._

_She can hear walkers. Hear their groans, moans, hisses and wails. The sound of their shuffling bones in rotting, sagging skin. A reanimated corpse with one objective in its mind. The cries come louder, the screams are excruciating to hear._

_"Lacey! Lacey, they're coming!" that's Sam voice, Sam's terrified voice shouting for her, "I can't hold them off! Lacey help! Lacey! Lacey!"_

_The screaming is shrill, painful, agonizing. The sounds of flesh ripping, the tearing of muscle and breaking of bones... The extinguished sounds of screams is even worse, dead teeth chewing on meat... Chewing on her girls... Because she can't save them. She can't. It's impossible to save them. They can't survive. They're all going to die, they're going to die and reanimate and become those monsters and just..._

_They're coming for her now. She can hear the walkers. They're moving again..._

_The sound coming nearer and nearer, until they come into clear view out of the trees. But they're not... They're not sagging skin. They're not rotting bodies... They're... They're-_

_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

"NO! No! God, no! Please."

"Baby. Baby! Calm down. You're alright now. It was a dream."

Lacey let Daryl pull her into his arms, she curled up into his chest, eyes glancing around in the dark, fighting back tears. God, she wished she could cross the field and just check up on the girls in Jo and Amy's tent. But it was too risky, too dangerous. The risk of getting attacked by a walker at this hour of the night, in pitch darkness, the risk of being mistaken for a walker and meeting an early demise by the hands of a friend, or family member. She tried to focus on something else, something other than the faces of her girls flashing behind her closed lids... Their dead faces- vacant... but hungry. Walkers... all three of them...

It was worse than a dream. It felt more like a precognition. This world would eat them alive... truly.


	6. note

OKAY! Just a note! I knooow, super disappointing. But KNOW THIS, dear readers, I HAVE two chapters nearly finished. They will still need editing after finishing though and I was hoping they would be up before the premiere, BUT unsurprisingly, I've been scheduled to work today! So... There will be a slight delay. BUT ALSO KNOW THIS! Once I view the first episode of Season 3, the next story, entitled: **The Walker**; will start in production.

The first time I listened to this song I had chills, and then a spark of inspiration. My Daryl/OC pairing was calling to me through these lyrics.

* * *

_I've been walking for days_

_I wore out my shoes_

_There's a dust storm approaching_

_And everything will change_

_And I'm tied to you_

_Baby I'm on my way_

_I'm jumping over fences_

_I'm taking baths in rain_

_I'm not worrying about sleeping_

_Until I see your face_

_There's a dust storm approaching_

_And everything will change_

_I'm tied to you_

_Baby I'm on my way_

_I'm on my way_

_I'm on my way_

_I'm on my way_

_They say time will bring us hell_

_And there's nothing you could do_

_But I'm tired of living a memory_

_So I'm walking to you_

_I'm walking..._

_I'm walking..._

_Baby I'm on my way_

* * *

I find it purely coincidental _**and**_ fitting that this inspired song is called The _Walker._

There is a direction and sort of hint in these lyrics as well, as to what my story may endeavour into. But... That has yet to be revealed...

ANYWAY! _Dance On Our Graves_ has two more chapters! Then the new work that will continue along with Season 3, **The Walker**, will be coming soon! Thanks to all that have favourited and alerted my stories or just me in general. You're all so sweet. Thank you!


	7. 6

**The Game We Talk**

* * *

_That (Wonderful) Time Before Daryl Knew About Keenan_

* * *

[There was a time, as hard as seems to believe now, when they weren't constantly running for their lives. When and where no one was _really_ in any immediate danger, or in deaths clutches. They were near enough to the city for supply runs, they had a constant source of what they needed, and they had developed a miniature society until the world was put back right again. Back in those times there were moments spared where they could actually talk to each other. Times that Daryl and Lacey took advantage of. Sometimes in the company of Honey, sometimes not; either way their conversations were usually quite... entertaining.]

Another game of give and take. Sitting among the forest trees on a fallen trunk, something of a hunt had turned into something of a social hour. They stayed vigilante, of course, neither of them one to be caught off guard. Keen senses, sharp reflexes, they could keep themselves (and each other) safe. The conversation started off casual, nothing serious, a shared joke here and there, just bullshit. How the conversation had turned away from that, and transformed into something... _else_... neither one could honestly remember. Lacey had spouted off information about her 'firsts', as she was labeling them (13, 14, 17), which seemed to throw Daryl off, causing a uneasy crease to form between his eyebrows and a blush to erupt from beneath the collar of his shirt and up to his ears.

"Come on," she nudged his shoulder with a fist, "It's not like it's going to become hot gossip. Just between you and me," Lacey urged with a smile, "First kiss, first girl, first time," she ticked off on her fingers and looked at him with that stupid grin he just couldn't say no to, even if he wasn't looking directly at her. Goddamn, woman...

He stood up, walking away some while growling a sigh as he leaned his back against a tree, eyes on the ground, "18 an' 22."

"So..." Lacey supplied him with room to elaborate but he wasn't giving anything more, "I'm going to assume first kiss at 18, and that was with your first girlfriend?"

There was a short head shake in response.

"Oh," Lacey nodded, "22 is first girlfriend and time... huh..." she looked into the distance, unaware of what her vision was really taking in.

"What," Daryl grumbled, annoyed by that curious '_huh_' in that far away voice she used, with a look on her face that matched it.

She snapped out of that preoccupied gaze and looked at him, crossing one leg over the other, "Just surprising," she shrugged, and Daryl pushed away from the tree, leisurely making his way back to where she sat on the log. She continued, "Picturing you at 18," a grin started to grow across her face, "I just- I mean, I see that as something..." she trailed off again, nearly zoning out again, it seemed. But he pulled her back in with his voice.

"As what," he seemed more interested than upset now, by the way she pulled her lip in between her teeth, her mind conjuring _who_ _knows_ what kinds of images.

"Something I would _definitely_ throw myself at," her eyes moved back to him where he stood just a foot away from her, a smirk on her mouth, "You _**are**_ attractive. You know that, right?"

He rolled his eyes, "Shut up," and fell to a crouch to lean his crossbow against the log.

"You **are**. What, did you think it was simply your- your _intoxicating_ personality that- AHH!" she squeaked as she was torn away from her spot on the fallen trunk and into his lap, laughter coming from her as she was pummeled with gentle fists and tickling fingers.

.

.

* * *

_Ifs: On Greene Farm_

* * *

"Ain't drivin' no damn mini van."

The conversation had begun as a variation of the games, 'which would you rather', or, 'this or that'.

Would you rather eat walker meat (if walkers actually had meat to give) or starve for two days. Would you rather drink piss or risk drinking unboiled water. French cut panties or commando. To which Daryl easily countered each of those questions with; "I ain't starvin', I know how to take care of myself,", "Whose piss?" and, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lacey would just laugh and demand him to answer the questions, and promised she would give her own answers after he did. He found her 'commando' answer intriguing (and wondered when he could get her alone again- more accutrately- **if** he could). But as the game progressed the less silly the questions became, and the more they started circulating around, '_After_ this is over... this or that.'

(Lacey seemed to have a way about her conversational skills that knew exactly how to get under Daryl's skin, make him uncomfortable, make him question her sanity. Though as time passed he had become used to her sudden bringing up of strange topics of conversation. She seemed to hate the silence, and if that meant bringing up stories from the past- no matter how awkward or disgusting- or starting these fucked up games, she would do it- just to kill the silence. As well as distract them away from the hell they were living in... When the situation or setting was correct for these conversations to occur, of course.)

Lacey raised her hands in surrender, "Hey, I didn't say _anything_ about mini vans, Soccer Dad. And besides. There's no way I'm driving them to school in the city. Traffic in New York is a total fuck story."

"Who said we'd go there? What's wrong with here?"

"Nothing's wrong with here, but realistically the big, _big_ cities are going to get cleaned up first, so... We'd probably be transported to the clean and safe cities until it was _all_ over, so... we'd already be there anyway," she shrugged when his icy stare became... icier. "I don't know. I just thought it might be better for them..."

"Right... You just wanna go back home," he summed up and turned his gaze away from her.

"Well... Could you live there?" she wondered cautiously.

His answer was just as cautious, as if they were a couple making relationship defining decisions, one didn't want to say something to set the other one off and cause a break up, "... I don't know... Maybe."

Lacey smiled smally, "Would you prefer a house or an apartment."

"A house, you think I'm stupid or somethin'?"

From there it went from where the girls would go to school, private or public? Which threw all previous caution to the wind, resulting in an argument about who turned out better with their schooling. A ridiculous argument about theoretical ideas. Though, Lacey exclaimed, if they're in New York anyway there is **no** question, the girls are going to the school she went to. To which Daryl would shoot back wondering why it mattered if you paid for ritzy schools or not when they're all learning the _same_ goddamn things. A brief pause, quiet, until Lacey continues with a sigh, "Bus or taxi?"

"We ain't livin' in New York," Daryl grumbled, then winced, how the fuck had he been roped into this conversation anyway. He felt like he was 12 years old talking to a... a bratty 5 year old... while they pretended to play _house_ or something. Holy _shit_.

"Yes, we are. And taxi it is. Next question! Who's going to stay at home with Honey."

.

.

* * *

_We're Sharing This Bed: Talk Me to Sleep_

* * *

"My dad would've liked you."

"Hm?"

Lacey nodded, turning slightly to get a little more comfortable on the bed, pulling Honey closer to her, keeping a hand on the child's stomach, "Yep... He'd probably threaten you, like any other dad would when it comes to men and their daughters, and seeing as I'm the only daughter he had there would be extra... malice..." she whispered, and though the moon cast some light through the drapes her features couldn't be made out in the darkness, the grin could be heard in her words, "But after a while... he'd like you. He'd treat you as part of the family... _even_ if you didn't want to be."

"Hm. An' what about your mom?" Daryl grumbled drowsily.

There was a sound of shifting fabric on fabric, Lacey shrugging, "You'd get used to her. She was kind of stern, but very, very sweet at the same time. She was the disciplinarian, no question about that. She was always sort of snooty, too. Surprised she ever gave Dad the time of day... Meeting you, she'd probably make some rude comments, but then... eventually... she'd tolerate you, and approve."

"Like I'd need their approval."

An airy chuckle, "I know how your mind works. You would be hoping and praying for a blessing."

He rolls his eyes, "Maybe... only for you."

Though a blush blazed across her chest, up her neck, covered her face and ears she rolled her eyes, incapable of taking a compliment or a sweet comment, not yet at least, not after what they'd been through that day. She had to keep it jokey, had to stay away from the serious. "_Because other girls can't compare_," sarcasm dripped from her words as she shook her head.

"They don't," he confirmed without hesitation.

She bit her lip, holding back a smile, that blush burning brighter, she was so thankful for the darkness, "Sure..." she worried on her lip now, unsure if she should venture into uncharted territory... but why the hell not, "What about your parents. Would they like me?"

Once again, he answered with certainty, "Nope."

Lacey halted a laugh in her throat, but was unable to stop the snort that came with it, "Well that's a load off my mind."

A sleepy chuckle came from Daryl before he mummbled something that sounded like go to sleep, darlin'...


	8. ANOTHER NOTE! WTF

Crikey! Dudes! That second episode was AMAZING! The Walking Dead is a gift that just keeps on giving.

So here's the thing. I have many, _many_ ideas that have been festering in my head since the end of season 2. Some of those ideas will be able to work along with how season 3 [because I'm so unimaginative I like to stay loyal to the show (and fall back on the graphic novel if needed)] is going, some ideas may not work out. I'm not completely sure yet, and I really, **REALLY** do want to put out like a mini chapter that goes along with season 3 as soon as possible, but this season is so _**fucking**_ unpredictable [and I absolutely LOVE THAT! Guh!] and I don't want to put something out there that I [think I] like after I've seen the two episodes, but then reconsider what I've published once I've viewed the third episode, you know? I'm weird like that.

I _WILL_ say I haven't written _ANYTHING_ yet concerning Lacey, aside from how she's adjusted to losing her group and to becoming part of this new group she was forcibly dragged into, mentions of coping with probably never seeing her family again [brother, children, little sis, and husband], as well as her friends. There's conversations about the miscarriage between Lacey and other characters that I have planned... So... I guess I **HAVE** written some stuff concerning Lacey... but it's nothing **in** **depth** yet, heh! But there is this idea I have, and I think it's just SO WONDERFULLY DRAMATIC AND ANGST INDUCING, but I need to know what's going on in Woodbury (how _the_ _show_ is going to go with Woodbury and The Governor, I mean) before I decide if I should put that idea into play... but I really want to... SO MUCH DRAMA! _

I was unaware how much I love drama until I started this story, adding even MORE drama to The Walking Dead. Which, by the way, I DO NOT OWN. I OWN NOTHING! Except an extensive amount of shoes, books, dvds and Batman merchandise... O_O

Umm... So, yeah! That is my reasoning for not having created _The Walker_ just yet. But I do believe I have enough to create just a tiny chapter in _someone's_ point of view. So after the final chapter of _Dance On Our Graves_ you can probably expect a tiny chapter of the new work _The Walker_ near the end of the week... possibly...

Thanks to those who have added _Mad World_, _Dance On Our Graves_ and me to their favorites and alerts!


	9. 7

TS-19/What Lies Ahead

* * *

Black, billowing smoke was quickly filling the clear, Georgian sky, pouring from its source - a building left in cinders. The initial explosion was over, though a few odd erupting blasts sprang from the flaming remains of the CDC... They were putting the building in their rear view mirrors, never to return again, never looking back. They were lucky to escape with their lives from the place they had falsely believed was their deliverance. Escaped. **Escaped**. 'Escaping _to_ salvation'... No... They were escaping _from_ their presumed salvation. It had not been the redemption they thought it was, they had not found hope - hope for salvation from -and a cure for- this pandemic - God wasn't granting them asylum. The CDC - with its single doctor tenant - very nearly became the death of them, but a last moments change of heart altered their fate from incinerated bodies within the smouldering building to speeding away from the burning scorch...

With all members of the group in a vehicle - along with a new addition in Daryl's pickup - their new concern was where they were to find shelter next before the sun disappeared and left them in the grim and ominous clutches of the night. There wasn't enough gas to transport them out of the city, and with the day's end coming more swiftly than they were prepared for they needed to make a decision fast.

Shane's Jeep was out of commission, nearly getting him killed as it sputtered to a stop. If it weren't for Daryl causing a big noise over it, Shane would've been walker food. But all was well... well... as well as it could be.

Erin fell in and out of sleep, startling awake - almost jumping out of Lacey's lap - but was quickly and easily soothed by Lacey's quiet murmuring and gentle touch.

Through the crackling short wave radio- "We... got an idea of wh... to go. Follow clo... Move fast." - was heard.

Daryl and Lacey exchanged a glance. Though her hands kept a consistent rhythm of stroking down Erin's arm he could see the tremble in them, "Y'alright?"

She looked at him, totally prepared to respond, but nothing ever came. She honestly didn't know if she was alright... she was alive... that was something... wasn't it?

Silence filled the small cab of the truck and Lacey just pulled Erin closer to her, focusing on the Cherokee in front of them, confused as to why they weren't even trying to exit the city as they took a few turns after blocks and blocks until finally they were faced with brake lights.

The trucks engine cut and Daryl got out quickly, armed with his crossbow he opened up the tailgate and let the dogs out, each of them snuffling at his shins - awaiting orders. Blondie broke away from the trio when Lacey stepped out carefully with Erin in her arms, sniffing at the girls foot. Everyone piled out of vehicles and clumped close together.

"Where are we?" Lacey whispered aloud when Robert came to her side, eyeing Daryl as he, Rocket and Blue moved along the group until they were heading it.

"There's a nursing home here, where these guys that took Glenn hostage are holed up," JoJo explained quietly from Lacey's other side, Amy, who was cradling Honey close to her, next to him. "We should be fine here for a day or so until we know just what the hell we're going to do next."

"Took Glenn hostage? Sounds great, we're gonna bunk with some apocalyptic terrorists," Robert deadpanned.

"We're all friends now. Rick settled it. Though your Spanish skills would've absolutely come in handy, Lace," Jo noted with a grin.

She scoffed quietly, "That language class was required, I barely know enough to hold a minute conversation about where the airport is... or where the bathroom is... or where the bathrooms in the airport are."

JoJo snickered quietly along with Amy as they all moved quickly and quietly along the side of the building where they parked.

"I bet they're barely hanging on. What makes you think they'll take in strangers?" Andrea wondered.

"With all the guns we gave 'em they'll probably throw us a party. Good call... for once," Daryl snipped and shot Lacey a look through the crowd that said something like 'Not moving on until I see you in front of me...dammit'.

So the ones familiar with the new surroundings led the way. The ones with children stayed close together, and the rest followed up close behind. It was like an obstacle course, though that seemed great for security purposes, they were all tired, scared, and... well... basically just exhaused and terrified. It was a bad mix along with adrenaline, any one of them was sure to collapse soon.

"Where're the look outs?" Glenn's quiet wondering hit everyone's ears, promoting them all into a new level of fear and confusion. They moved together like a tight unit, nearly home free, as Ben quietly put it, as he helped Lacey through the - **literal **- hole in the wall and into what could be referred to as a courtyard created by military-action-to-prevent-the-apocalyse means.

They could hear them before they could see them. That ominous sound. The quiet... before the sound of skin tearing away from bodies, organs ripped apart by teeth, the unpleasant growling that meant - walkers.

The dogs growled lowly at the mobile corpses, but were told to hold off.

Ten of them. Ten walkers. Grazing on the corpses strewn about the yard. Giving hardly any notice of the group that had stumbled upon them. Mother's turned their fearful children's faces away from the horrifying, gory scene. Amy kept Honey's eyes and ears covered before the infant could even glance toward the carnage. Luckily, Erin had lapsed back into an unconscious state again, though Lacey still turned the girl's face away in precaution. Sophia sobbed into Carol's chest, Carl did his best to stay quiet though he felt like crying too.

JoJo stayed near to his girlfriend and sister, bat gripped tightly in his hands as he looked to Ben with a disturbed, questioning gaze. It had been them, T-Dog, Glenn, Daryl and Rick here before, just the other day. This obviously wasn't the norm for this place.

"Son of a bitch!" Shane swore louder than a whisper. Loud enough to rouse the attention of the walkers. The dogs took this as cue to start their menacing growling again, their 'back the fuck off - these are our people - and we've totally got a police dog here that'll snap your neck' sort of growls. Rick was pacing when all looked to him, pacing like he was contemplating if he could scream at the top of his lungs in anger, because _unsurprisingly_, things weren't working out as planned... **again**. The walkers were all on their feet now, realizing there was fresh meat in their presence, fresh meat that had yet to play a move.

Lacey was weaponless aside from her knife that hung from her beltloop, but with Erin in her arms she couldn't do much anyway. And she would never put up a fight with a child in her arms. She would run, and when running might not save them both, she'd urge the child to go on by themselves. She'd sacrifice herself, when it meant someone else might live on, she'd always go down with a fight. She'd never risk another life besides her own, especially a child's life, but especially the child in her arms presently. This child that came running into her life by an impromptu introduction from Blue, this child that was now trusting her with her life.

Robert and JoJo stayed nearest to the women and children, weapons at the ready, waiting for the word on just what the fuck they were going to do. The dogs were completely spiked and vicious sounding, staying nearest to their masters as the threats ambled toward them. Those walkers were now fully aware that their prey was apparently not going to put up a fight, and were closing in.

Rick pulled his gun from its holster, ceasing his pacing as he stated, "To hell with the noise," and raised his firearm to aim.

Those with guns took the safety off and took aim as well. Robert urged those without weapons and the dogs away from the earsplitting sounds and carnage, taking up Daryl's crossbow passed to him on the way. It was a shooting gallery, for a good 10 seconds the blasting sounds of gunfire penetrating the quiet air until the living dead bodies lay crumbled and surely dead on the ground.

There was no doubt that the sound had attracted other walkers, even if it echoed all around the city it still sounded like the dinner bell. Their movements were a frantic rush now over the corpses as Rick led the way, "Come on! On me!"

Those who were armed led the way, cleared a path. Robert guarded the rear, and Lacey took out her knife, just in case. It was like another sort of labyrinth to get inside the building. Once again, it was good for security purposes, supposedly, how elaborate it was, but in a time like this it all just seemed hazardous and irritating. They finally reached the entrance to get inside. Hurdling and side stepping the bodies of walkers and fresh corpses of old people and probably the staff that watched over them - the ones Glenn had talked about, the ones that had taken him hostage. There were sounds of digust and sadness shared. Sophia, yet again, becoming too overwhelmed by all the gruesome death surrounding them cried into her mother's embrace. Flies buzzed over the rotting corpses, the stench of decay in the air... it was almost too much.

"Keep your voices down. Let's go," Rick urged quietly.

Sophia's incessant cries became louder the more they continued through the building, with each new withering body they tip toed around. Carol tried to smother the sound as gently as possible, Lori and Lacey offered quiet shushings as well. If they weren't alone in the building, though it was becoming increasingly and worryingly obvious that they were, in fact, very much alone, Sophia's cries would act as a guide straight to them.

"Put a sock in it!" Daryl hissed roughly.

Lacey shot him a wide eyed look before whispering back a warning that couldn't honestly be taken seriously, but it was the first repsonse that came to mind, "Dude!" She thought she'd outgrown that, she blames it on JoJo.

"Leave her alone!" Carol defended quietly.

Daryl glared, pointing a threatening finger her way, "Either shut her up or I will!"

"Back the hell off and I mean now!" Lori ceased all bickering with her sharp, motherly demand... the moment of quiet that followed was broken by her when she asked, "Are we staying or going."

"We don't have the feul," Rick offered dejectedly, looking from his wife to his best friend.

"We'll hunker down for the night. Rick, me, Daryl, Ben and Rob - we're gonna sweep the buildin'. Make sure we're alone," Shane proposed quickly, eyes scanning over Rick and those he had mentioned in his plan. There was an affirming nod.

"Barricade those doors. Jo," Rick ordered quietly and JoJo sprang to the task with Glenn and others assistance.

Ben gave a sharp whistle to Blue, Rocket went with Rob without question and Blondie stayed where she could always be found - where ever Lacey was.

Lacey caught Rob's arm, "Be careful," she mumbled, looking from him to Daryl, the warning meant for both of them, all of them. Robert nodded, while Daryl gave her a look of his own that said, 'Woman, I know what'm doin'.'

Ben, Shane and Rick move as a unit together, Robert sticks close to Daryl. The five of them, as well as Blue and Rocket, move their way upward through the building. They don't find anymore walkers, just more and more dead bodies.

'PRAYER AND MEDITATION' - 'Prayer changes things' was stuck onto the glass of a door, Daryl nudged it open with his foot, crossbow ready to fire. But all the room contained was a man slumped against the wall, head tilted up, eyes open, jaw slack. Robert stayed in the hallway, peering in once Daryl stepped back and read what was printed on the door.

He scoffed, "Guess that didn't work out so well for ya, did it, Haus..." He went to move but then... something struck him. A similarity in all the corpses that litered this building.

"What is it?" Robert wondered for Daryl's reason of pause.

The redneck simply nodded to the dead man in the room. "See somethin' strange 'bout that?" and moved along. Robert rose a brow and watched Daryl go for a moment before looking back into the prayer and meditation room, his eyes traveled all over the dead body, nothing seemed to be out of place bu- Oh... He caught up with Daryl quickly...

The barricade was as complete as it could be. Nothing could shove its way through, at least they hoped nothing could. And as fate would have it, it was put to the test. A walker ambled by, its silhouette casted eerily against the murky window glass. Everyone hit the deck. Erin startled awake and Lacey put a finger to her lips as a signal to the girl. Her eyes watered, but she kept her lips sealed shut, heart hammering at the sound of the walker groaning along on the other side of the wall.

Lacey held Erin tight to her, and the girl held back just as tightly. Lacey's eyes stayed on Honey's, distracting the baby, keeping her occupied and hoping that she understood that this was one of those times where she should exercise her amazingly quiet attitude. Tears slipped down Erin's cheeks, and just on the other side of Amy she saw Carl, though she didn't know who he was she saw his finger pressed against his lips, mouthing words to her - saying, 'Shhh. It's okay. It's okay.' She saw his other hand held Sophia's hand tightly. Erin gave the smallest hint of a nod, trying to cease her tears as they waited for the walker to pass by. And the moment the walker was gone, the entire group bolted.

They're guided to what used to be the Rec Room. Piled up with corpses and flies, it's difficult to gulp down a single breath without gagging.

"Upstairs is our best bet. We've cleared a few rooms. We can barricade those if we have to. We'll be alright," Rick explained calmly, no longer whispering.

"You mean it this time?" Carol spoke up, "Or are you lying to us like all the times before."

Lacey slapped a palm to her forehead, carrying a - yet again - unconscious Erin with one arm now, "Carol," she said with an exasperated sigh.

"That's unfair and no help at all," Lori added. There was a moment of quiet where Rick gave a look of thanks to Lori and Lacey.

Then Glenn spoke in a grave, confused tone, "What the hell happened..."

"What do you think," Andrea sighed, "They got overrun."

Daryl scoffed, gaining everyones attention, but especially Andrea's.

"Something to say?" Andrea flickered her gaze between Daryl and Lacey, as if wondering why Lacey didn't speak up to stop him, as if she were his handler. Lacey just raised a brow, a perplexed look on her face - like, 'What...?'

"Yeah. How 'bout- observant," Daryl said simply, if not with a hint of snark.

"Observant," Andrea nodded along with her sarcastic astonishment, "Big word from a guy like you. Three whole syllables."

Lacey couldn't help an eye roll, though she'd been there and done that she knew Daryl far better now. He wasn't an idiot, that was for damn sure.

"Walkers didn't do this. Geeks didn't show up 'til after _all_," he gestured to all the bodies around them, "**this** went down. Somebody attacked this place. Killed all these people, took what ever they wanted. They're all shot in the head, execution style. Ya'll worried 'bout walkers. I'd be much more worried 'bout the poeple who came and did all this," he fixed Andrea with a look, "Get a dictionary. Look it up: Observant," he pointed a single finger at his temple and made his leave.

With the mood in the room now set, the group stewed with the idea that they shouldn't solely be worried about walkers - humans were just as much a threat.

Lacey carried Erin with her, moving to follow Daryl. And with her exit came Rob's along with Honey, and then JoJo.

"Sexy redneck detective..." Lacey mused, "Would've been a wonderful pitch for a tv show. Would've made millions," she grinned. JoJo made a disgruntled sound while Robert and Daryl snorted.

"I'd watch it," she laughed with a shrug...

Everyone holed up in the secured and cleared out room the guys created on a higher floor. The dogs were lounging nearest to the door, there was someone on watch at the stairs, and aside from the mass of stinking bodies smelling up the place, it wasn't so bad. At least they were indoors... and not dead... There's always a bright side, isn't there?

Lacey had Erin beside her, curled up on a gore-free blanket, snoozing away. Honey was in her lap, making little cooing sounds as she reached to Daryl, who indulged her - giving her his hand so she could claim his fingers in a baby death grip. Jo and Amy were sat next to a sullen Andrea who'd been gazing at a spot on the floor for quite some time now, Amy's arm hooked with hers, while her other hand was occupied with Jo's, fingers laced together firmly. Robert was out on the stairs, keeping watch with T-Dog. Everyone had their place, they try to make it work.

Rick, Shane and Ben come back mostly empty handed. A can and a packet of something.

"They ransacked the kitchen. All we found is one can," Shane passed the can to Lacey, she inspected the label with a grimace before passing it to Daryl.

"They hit the dispensary too. Tore the door off its hinges. Took everything except this," Rick tossed the packet to Lacey, something for her to put in her bag.

"So we came back for cough drops and garbanzo beans," Daryl read the can carefully before working the top off with a can opener.

"Is there any water?" Sophia wonderer aloud, voice quiet and dry.

Shane rummaged around in his bag before pulling out a fresh plastic bottle, capped, filtered and pure, from the CDC, he cracked it opened and handed it to Carol, "Just the one bottle I brought. Just a few sips, okay, hunny? Gotta make it last. Gotta go for everyone, okay?" Shane explained softly.

Sophia nodded, carefully taking a sip before passing it along to the next person - Jo, and continuing its path around the room. Amy nodded toward Shane's bag once she had her sip and passed the water past Andrea, who shook her head shortly when offered the bottle, "What else you got in there?" Shane dipped his hand back into his bag, a crinkling sound emitted from within its depths before he revealed a snack sized bag of ruffled potato chips, smirking smally as he shook it.

"Salty snacks," Glenn gave a lopsided grin, accepting the bags of chips Shane passed to him from his bag. Jo scooted across the floor to help Glenn dole out equal portions of beans onto paper plates.

"Courtesy of the CDC," Shane chuckled, "Heh, I thought I'd be having midnight snacks in my air-conditioned room, but now... it'll have to be dinner."

Plates with a small pile of beans and a bag of chips were passed around. Lacey put out the offer of green bean puree, but everyone had about the same attitude toward the veggie flavoured baby food as Honey did.

Shane's hand disappeared into his bag of tricks again, "And then there's, uh..." a bottle of liquor came into sight.

"That to share?" Daryl nodded toward it, speaking through a mouth full of food, keenly interested.

"Seein' as I owe you my life. Guess I, uhh... I'mma go ahead and be nice to you... from now on," Shane gave up the bottle, with an air of awkwardness and something opposite of enthusiasm.

"I do think I earn the first swallow," Daryl took the bottle easily, cracking it open.

Lori, ever the mother, suggested kindly, "Go easy on that stuff. Let's not forget where we are."

"Yes, ma'am," came Daryl's response before he took a swig. A hush came over the room as everyone paced themselves with their 'meals' as they were dealt to them. Dale carried four plates, one stacked over the other, in his hand, coming into a crouch in front of Andrea, "Are you alright?"

The blonde's gaze pulled away from its spot on the floor, looking up at Dale with a look of complete and utter resentment, "Why wouldn't I be? I'm spending the night in a building that stinks so badly of rotting bodies I want to vomit up my guts, I'm dining on condiments and hoping I don't get eaten by dead cannibal freaks before dawn. What's not to like..."

The original hush that could've been classified as comfortable became unpleasant, glances are exchanged, most of them unbelieving of how rude Andrea was to Dale, right to his face; making them far more aware, though they were all very much quite aware, of the situation they were all trapped in.

"Thank you, Dale," There was a double meaning to her words as she accepted the offered plate.

"Andrea..." Amy breathed in a pleading, yet warning kind of way, but her sister simply ignored it, picking at the beans on her plate in disgust.

Dale left the room, a face that looked like he'd actually been physically slapped rather than verbally. He took a seat on the top step of the stairs, wordlessly handing off plates to T-Dog and Robert...

"What's next...? We need to decide," Lori asked, standing up, shifting from foot to foot, fighting the urge to move - to pace around the room. She didn't want to rile anyone else up, crank up the nerves, she tried to stay calm, to be an example, maybe something of a leader. Not one of... physical action, but more of the... spokesperson persuasion.

All eyes looked to Lori, then where she was looking - to Rick. Rick cast a glance toward his friend and Shane gave a shrug as if it were obvious, "Fort Benning, Rick."

"Fort Benning..." Lori repeated with a nod.

"I should've listened to you, Shane," Rick admitted quietly, head downturned, eyes cast to his boots. "Would've saved us a lot of grief if I had. Jacqui would still be alive."

Shane was quick to defend Rick, to soothe him,"It was her choice, man. Do not take that on."

"It was her choice," Lori agreed. From the corner of her eye Lacey noted a pinch in Andrea's face, that resentment back at full force. Lori continued, "It was her decision to make, not yours. No more than it was with Jim." Rick seemed to let it all sink in, and in the quiet everyone seemed to lapse into their own thoughts.

Lacey had finally twisted the top back onto Honey's jar of food when Glenn spoke up, a tone of disbelief in his words as they seemed to flow out of his mouth without filter, "All these people... Who woud've done something like this...? Just come in here and murder everybody - even all the old people - how sick is that..."

Once again, the weak of heart were rendered to tears, fear taking over them, losing control over their emotions, their actions.

"Is this something we need to be discussing right now?" Lori, was just barely stomping over to Glenn and came to stand over him with a stern look on her face, a hint of her own fear leaking through.

The hush that had come and gone repeatedly had turned from moderately comfortable given the circumstances, to awkward, and now back to wide eyed, stomach curling terror.

Just then Robert stepped into the room, carrying empty plates and dispensing them into a trash can before taking up a now fully asleep Honey from Lacey's lap. He took a seat against the wall next to where Erin was settled, cradling Honey easily as he got settled into a comfortable position.

"Better if we, uhh, all got some sleep, huh?" Rick offered before giving a select few a pointed glance. Lacey stood with Daryl's assistance, following him out the door after Rick, Shane, Glenn and Ben.

Daryl caught the door after them, careful of making any noise, and careful of his bottle. The door closed with a soft click and Shane sighed. Glenn's eyes were on the floor, what he'd said finally hitting him.

"Hey. Kids in there are terrified, and the women," Shane explained.

Lacey's arms were crossed, but she raised one hand up slightly as she said, "Woah." Sure she was scared, but she wouldn't consider herself one of _the_ women. Hell, look at where she was, among the men, the toughest of the men, among... among the coucil, one could say.

"Guys, I'm really sorry." Glenn apologized, and the way he'd said it, it was honest - he felt like a total jackass.

Daryl took a hefty swig from the liquor bottle and offered it to Lacey who took a small sip, passing it back to him as they started down the short hallway and to the stairs where Dale and T-Dog were.

"We're all rattled and exhausted, no one's thinkin' clearly. But we have to start," Rick reasoned, "Our lives depend on it."

"Damn right. We can't ever let our guard down again..." Shane huffed, then scoffed, "Back at camp, having us a fish fry, no one on watch. People died that didn't need to."

Lacey leaned against the railing of stairway, gazing down the steps, wondering how and if walkers could and would travel up such a flight just for a taste of flesh.

"Fort Benning. That's the consensus," Rick said with a sureness in his tone that almost made it seem like this time it truly would be their salvation.

"Anywhere but here," T-Dog mumbled, taking the bottle Daryl offered.

"We're wasting fuel driving so many vehicles. We need to lose a few. We'll siphon the gas out of what ever cars we don't take. Should get us free of the city," a series of nods of agreement followed Rick's comment. Dale stood up, and T-Dog passed the bottle back to Daryl.

"That'll be a start. Let's just try to get a little shut eye tonight, okay? T, I'll dispell ya in an hour," Shane and all but T-Dog went back to the room...

Lacey got as comfortable as she could get on the linoleum floor with just a thin blanket and sleeping bag as padding beneath her. On either side of her there was a child; Erin and Honey. Honey slept between her and Daryl, while Erin slept between her and Robert. She was sandwiched in the very middle... and fidgeting. There was just something so terribly uncomfortable about flat, cold, floor. A hand touched her shoulder through the darkness. She glanced toward the source of the touch - Daryl. His fingers moved down her arm until they landed in her palm, she took the shy hint and tangled their fingers together. The floor was still uncomfortable, but... as cheesy as it seemed... Daryl made it more bearable. She'd rather lose a limb before she lost him, the same went for her brothers and girls, but Daryl... he was in a different league... He made it seem like it was going to be all right, like there _could_ be something after this... like they really _could_ survive... like they could make it through...

'_God! That is __**so**__ cheesy!'_ Lacey's thoughts ceased after that, and she finally succumbed to slumber, if only for a grand total of an hour or so... Their journey would continue early tomorrow, to their next destination where they may actually find sanctuary in this mad world...


End file.
